In Regards to the Direwolf
by singingviolets
Summary: (Three-shot). Set right after S6 E9. The Greyjoys just have offered their services to Danaerys Targaryen, but Tyrion is wary of Theon. The two men discuss the Starks and resolve their differences.
1. Chapter 1

"My Lady, have you decided to accept the offer from the Greyjoys?"

"Indeed I have," replied Danaerys Targaryen, tucking a stray lock of white-blond hair behind her ear. "Yara Greyjoy seems capable, and her younger brother quite harmless."

Tyrion grunted in reply. It was true, Yara Greyjoy seemed to be an effective leader - very put together and self-assured. Moreover, she was a woman, and she had gotten her sailors to choose her over her uncle. One half of the female leaders he knew were good at their job, a fraction much higher than that of competent male leaders, so he could trust in Yara Greyjoy.

But her brother Theon was a different matter. Yes, he had been castrated and generally had gone through quite a transformation, but Tyrion could not shake off his contempt for the boy who jeered at him in Winterfell so many years ago. The boy who turned his back on the noble family that raised him with love. The boy who betrayed them by slaughtering their two youngest children, one of them a cripple. Tyrion remembered the special saddle he had designed for Brandon Stark. He wondered if the boy had ever been able to use it before his death.

"My Lady, do you know anything about House Stark?"

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, her eyes flashing.

"The Usurpers," she hissed. "They helped kill my father."

Tyrion sighed. His Lady really did need to get a grasp on the current political situation in Westeros. Come to think of it, Tyrion himself had been absent for so long that he needed an update. Perhaps he could ask the Greyjoys…that is, Yara Greyjoy. But for now, he had to fill his Lady in.

"Well you may have heard that Ned – the main Usurper, to you – was dead. Killed by my family, in fact," he started. "His daughters were left in King's Landing, his eldest son and wife waging a war of vengeance on the Lannisters. His two youngest, one a cripple and one a toddler, were the only ones left at their castle in the north."

Danaerys Targaryen let out an impatient sigh.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because Theon Greyjoy was raised by the Starks," he replied. Taking in her startled expression, he kept on. "Raised in a loving family as one of their own. But what did he do to them in return? Abandoned the eldest son's military campaign, reclaimed the castle of Winterfell, and slaughtered the two little boys," he spat.

Her face was pensive throughout his speech, her eyes hardened. She sat still for a moment, but finally spoke.

"You mean to say," she began, "that if he so easily betrayed a family that treated him with love and respect, how do we know if he is loyal to us?" she finished her thought, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question. She sat down, her mind spinning.

After a minute or so, she stood up again.

"I can trust Yara Greyjoy," she stated at last. "But I will keep an eye on Theon. Oh, and Tyrion?"

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Thank you for your counsel."


	2. Chapter 2

When Tyrion found her, Yara Greyjoy was sitting on her bed with her side to the doorway, lacing up her dark brown leather boots. As usual, she had a fierce and determined expression on her face, brows furrowed and eyes lost in thought about something far from pleasant.

Not the best time to talk to her, but Tyrion was unsure that he would have another chance in the near future – she was often with her ass of a younger brother. He cleared his throat.

"What is it?" Yara asked sharply, her head snapping to him, fingers abandoning her boots. "Tyrion Lannister," she added with a curt nod.

"I'd like to have a word," he began, "about your brother Theon."

Her eyes flashed. She was immediately ready to protect her little brother – an admirable trait, but not helpful to Tyrion's current stance.

"Whatever it is," she replied coolly, "know that he's a changed man. That bastard Ramsay put him through so much…" here she sighed, her expression softening a bit.

"My issue with your brother," Tyrion started, "is his betrayal of the family that cared for him. And I need some evidence that he will not betray his protectors again."

To his surprise, Yara didn't lash out at him. In fact, she had an odd expression on her face – was that a smirk?

"Interesting," she said after a minute, studying Tyrion's face. "A Lannister with a fondness for the Starks."

"I am not—" he started, but she silenced him with a fleeting face of steel.

"In regards to my brother, he did not immediately run off to Winterfell as soon as he could to claim it for his own," she scoffed. "It was our father, mainly, who pressured him into it. Our father was not exactly kind and loving to his offspring," she added bitterly, "even his sons." Here she stopped for a minute and finished lacing up her boots. "But he's dead now, and we are beyond his influence."

"Tyrion Lannister," she said after a moment. "I know who your father is. I know who your sister and brother are. Don't tell me you've never craved the approval of your father, that you've never done something merely for his love and acceptance, even if you weren't proud of it." And without even sparing a glance at the fuming dwarf in her doorway, she stood up and stomped out of the room.

Oh, Yara Greyjoy was good. Her words stung Tyrion more than he cared to admit. The dwarf, the runt of the litter, that's all he had ever been. Reviled by his sister, mocked by his uncles and aunts, and most of all, disowned by his father…oh yes, he could understand. He had often wondered what life would have been like had he been born in a loving family, a family like the Starks. But as it stood now, Jaime was the only one related to Tyrion that treated him with such kindness.

For the first time, Tyrion had felt a connection to Theon Greyjoy. Like any other son, all he ever sought was acceptance from his family, and Tyrion had a feeling that Yara was the only Greyjoy to ever give that to him. Yet Theon had been raised by the Starks, and Tyrion had seen it firsthand. He had noticed the warm smiles Ned Stark would give the boy, and how he laughed vivaciously with Jon Snow, the Stark bastard.

What a fool Theon Greyjoy had been, seeking the wrong father in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

Tyrion hadn't meant to end up alone with Theon Greyjoy.

There had been a meeting today among all of them – Danaerys, Missandei, Grey Worm, and the Greyjoys – to discuss which other houses to seek alliances with. Tyrion couldn't help noting that the name Stark was conspicuously absent from their conversation, but he supposed that with all of its current members besides Jon Snow, the bastard, dead or in hiding, it was quite understandable. House Lannister popped up briefly, but Tyrion merely laughed, knowing Cersei, its current leader, would never join forces with him.

After the meeting, everyone had immediately scurried off: his Lady had gone to tend to Drogon, Missandei and Grey Worm to discuss their concerns in private (or to snog, Tyrion couldn't be sure), Yara Greyjoy had run off to check on the rest of the fleet. Only Theon remained, sitting in silence, his miserable eyes fixated on a spot on the table, thoughts far away from the dwarf sitting across from him.

Tyrion hadn't meant to end up alone with Theon Greyjoy, but he supposed he could use this chance to interrogate the boy and determine where his loyalties lay, however unpleasant the conversation would be.

"So, Theon Greyjoy, what drives you to follow your sister? I would've thought, given your track record, that you would want the glory for yourself."

It took a while for the boy to glance up, startled, as if he didn't realize that Tyrion was addressing him. Gulping his throat, Theon responded.

"I don't want the glory," he began. To Tyrion's surprise, his tone had not a shred of indignance. "My sister would make a better leader than I. Besides, I am…unable to marry," he added, his face reddening slightly.

Ah, Tyrion thought. So this is what Yara Greyjoy meant – the Boltons had castrated the boy. Tyrion felt a touch of sympathy for Theon, but he pushed it aside. That did not excuse his betrayal.

"And how do I know you are speaking the truth now? For you seemed to be loyal to the Starks for so many years, yet you took their castle and murdered their two youngest boys," Tyrion pressed on, his temperature and volume rising steadily.

"I did not—" Theon began, eyes flashing in anger. But he suddenly gasped and drew back in fear. "What do you care about the fate of the Starks?" he asked warily. "You are a Lannister, the family that started the slaughtering."

Tyrion snorted. "A Lannister? Not any longer. Not since I killed my own father," he spat. This apparently came as news to the boy, as his eyes widened in surprise. "I've only really cared for my brother Jaime in that family."

"You killed your own father?" Theon Greyjoy was aghast, but not necessarily disgusted, just incredibly confused. "How?"

Choosing to ignore him, Tyrion went on. "To answer your question about the Starks, Greyjoy," he cleared his throat, "I do not care for the Starks. Ned Stark was a fool, and I have no kind words for his eldest son," he began harshly. Then his face softened, as did his tone.

"But," he went on, "I do have a soft spot for cripples, bastards, and broken things," he muttered softly. The room was quiet for a minute as Tyrion struggled to finish his thought. "So," he finally said, "you'll forgive me if I don't feel a twinge of sadness for poor, dead Brandon Stark," he finished with his usual biting sarcasm.

"He's not dead," Theon muttered softly, spilling the words out of his body before he could think twice about revealing them to the dwarf.

"What?"

"He's not dead," Theon repeated, a bit louder and surer this time. "I didn't kill him," he went on, "but when I think about the two farm boys I killed in their stead…" here he choked, fighting back tears. "I don't deserve forgiveness. I'm trying to move on, but it's just…"

Tyrion was appalled. Where was the boy who had cruelly teased him just a few years ago at Winterfell? Who was this tortured creature that couldn't speak two sentences without blubbering? The sympathy that he felt earlier was returning, but this time, Tyrion didn't brush it off. Moreover, in some tiny segment of his brain, he was relieved – no, glad – that the crippled Stark child was still alive.

But then a thought occurred to him. Theon had been in Westeros for quite a while longer than he. Perhaps…could he have news on the others? He didn't care much for the younger girl, who was probably dead long ago, but he hoped Lady Sansa was doing well, and to a lesser degree, her bastard brother Jon Snow.

"And the other Stark children? Do you know anything about them?" Tyrion asked. This question seemed to divert him from his sobs, as the boy looked up eagerly to answer.

"Arya is alive," he began, to Tyrion's shock. Impressive girl, he thought, being able to evade capture for so many years. "I heard it from the female knight who came to help us. She also told us Jon was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

The Night's Watch, Tyrion thought. He remembered accompanying the boy on his journey there, but he never thought Jon Snow would rise so fast. Perhaps he underestimated the strength of the Stark family after all.

But there was something nagging him about Theon's story.

"The female knight was Brienne of Tarth, I presume," he remarked. Theon nodded. "But who is 'us'? You and your sister?"

Here, Theon's face grew utterly pallid, his eyes haunted. Whatever it was, Greyjoy's news would not be anything pleasant.

"It was me and the girl married to Ramsay Bolton," he finally responded quietly. "She and I were both t-tortured by him," he muttered, eyes turning glassy once again. Tyrion frowned gravely. He had heard from Yara Greyjoy about the sadistic tendencies of Ramsay Bolton, and he pitied any girl who was forced to marry him.

"He was so cruel. He forced me to watch as he r-raped and b-beat her," he cried, no longer being able to hold back his tears. "She forgave me at the end of it all, when we had both escaped, but I couldn't take it. She was safe with the knight, so I ran away. I couldn't bear it," he gasped for air.

"It was S-sansa," croaked Theon.

Tyrion's face froze. Sansa Stark. How he remembered his child-bride. She had come to King's Landing with her father and sister so young and starry-eyed. Yet after his death, she had survived as Cersei's prisoner for so long, despite being surrounded by her family's biggest enemies. She had been able to outmaneuver his evil brat of a nephew even at such a young age. She had escaped from near death…only to end up in the most miserable situation possible for a girl. Even at King's Landing, she and Tyrion had developed a certain camaraderie, both of them stuck in a marriage they were equally displeased with. But now, all that Tyrion felt was pity for her. And hope.

"She escaped, you said?" Tyrion finally asked. Theon nodded, his tears already drying to form a hollow expression on his face.

"Both of us together," he muttered. "She's likely with Jon now, trying to reclaim Winterfell."

Tyrion sighed in relief. "At least she is with family again."

"Yes," Theon agreed. "Family is a great thing," he added. "I wish I only knew that a few years ago."

The twinge of sympathy in the back of Tyrion's mind grew a little. He let it sit there, as he did for all cripples, bastards…and broken things.


End file.
